


Gravedigger

by For_the_love_of_fiction



Series: Buried Six Feet Down [1]
Category: Veronica Mars (TV)
Genre: Actually on purpose this time, Bones inspired, Can't sleep must type, F/M, Not Beta Read, Not Crossover, save me from myself, sorta crossover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-29
Updated: 2019-09-29
Packaged: 2020-11-02 18:24:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20814182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/For_the_love_of_fiction/pseuds/For_the_love_of_fiction
Summary: An unexpected occurrence has Veronica reaching out for help.A NotCrossover with Bones.  Don't really need to know Bones, but will recognize elements of the story if you've seen season 1 of Bones.





	Gravedigger

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CubbieGirl1723](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CubbieGirl1723/gifts).

> Gift for CubbieGirl1723!
> 
> Thanks for the help today! Yesterday... sometime recently!! After our chat about xo's, this fic that I had been thinking about would not leave me alone. So to tide you over until later, have a ficlet!

The ringing of the phone wakes him up. He groans and rolls over, smacking at the noise. Its his generic ringtone, the one for either people he doesn’t care about or people he doesn’t know. The clock on his bedside table reads 11:48, a time in which normal people are up and about. It takes 3 rings for him to decide to answer.

“‘Lo?” His voice is thick with sleep, and he doesn’t want to give anything away about his identity if it’s a wrong number.

“Logan?”

He sits up, instantly awake. It’s been over two years since he’s heard her voice. The tone though, its unmistakable. Hesitant, where she rarely is. A bit of fear creeping in. She’s in trouble. 

“Veronica? What’s wrong?”

She laughs, her voice still high and anxious. It’s not a laugh of amusement, but of terror. “I don’t know where I am. He took my phone. I had a burner in my boot, though. Old habits.”

His mind is running a mile a minute. He took her phone? Who? Why? “I need more than that, Veronica. And give me a minute, I’ll track the phone.” She’s left him with some skills. Ones he’d never imagined that he’d ever need again.

“Can’t track this one the normal way. Whole point of the phone. Get to Mac, she can do it.” There was quiet on the line for a few moments. Then softer came, “I don’t know her number off the top of my head.”

“Got it.” He was off the bed and rummaging around for clothes. Any. He didn’t really care about cleanliness at this point. “I still need more details, Veronica. What happened? Was it a case?”

That laugh came again. Terror, with a bit of derision. “No, no case. Or at least, not mine. Do you know, I haven’t taken a case since Neptune? Quit cold turkey. I didn’t even look up my roommate before I met her. Progress, some would say. Look at where that got me.”

Where were his shoes? They had to be somewhere. “Okay. Ronnie, you got to give me more than that.”

There was controlled breathing on the other end. Like she was trying not to sob. “I’m sorry.”

He froze, phone held up to his ear, rescued shoe dropping from his other hand. Did he really hear that right? “Ronnie? Please. Tell me what’s going on.”

“Okay. Okay.” She was pulling herself together. “Have you heard anything about the Gravedigger?”

He racked his brain. Sounded familiar. “Uh… Possibly? I haven’t really been paying too much attention to much recently.”

“Kids go missing. Rich kids. Ages range from 11 to 21. Parents get a ransom call. Give me x amount, and I’ll tell you where to dig up your kid.”

Why did the stupid elevator always take so long? Wait, dig up? “What do you mean? Why would they have to dig up somebody?”

“They’re always attacked alone, no witnesses. Taser. There’s burn marks. Probably some kind of chloroform or something else to knock them out. Then they’re put in a container, large, with enough air for hours. Buried.” Her words are more clipped, probably due to her stress levels, but her voice is even. Her working voice. “The ones who pay get GPS coordinates to the container. The ones who don’t pay? Never found.” Her voice breaks at the end.

He’s in the elevator and leaning on the hand rails. Praying that the call doesn’t drop. “Ronnie?” He can’t ask the question. Only say her name in the hopes that she’ll correct him.

“I don’t know where I am. I-” She’s openly sobbing now, something that terrifies him more than anything else. “I was taken. My dad-” she cuts herself off again.

He’s moving with purpose across the lobby towards his car. “Your dad doesn’t have the money. But I do.”

“Logan.” She doesn’t sound hopeful. “Dad went to catch a bail jumper. He told me service would be spotty. I don’t know if he’ll even get the call in time. I don’t know if he’ll even know before…” She trails off.

He’s confused. Why her? If she had been leaving things be… “Why were you even targeted? I thought you said that you quit?” His car is all tire screeching and loud noises, but as long as she’s still on the phone, nothing else matters.

“It got out. What I used to do. People have been coming up to me and asking for favors. Like before. I always refuse, but…”

“If he knew and felt threatened…”

“Yeah.”

There’s more silence. He doesn’t have any more questions that he wants to know the answer to, and she’s trying really hard not to break down any more than she already has. 

“Logan?”

“Yeah?”

“I need to hang up for a bit.”

“What? No!” The car swerves a bit into the other lane. A car honks at him. “I’m ten minutes from Mac’s! Just stay on the line, please!”

“Mac can’t track this phone unless it’s on. Unless it’s actively making a call. I need to conserve battery. Can’t find me if it’s dead.” She’s silent for a beat and then, “Also, talking takes up my air. It’ll only shave off minutes, but…”

He swears colorfully. “Fine. Turn the ringer up loudly. You can’t miss this call.”

Another laugh, this one a bit more humored. “Don’t worry, I’m definitely answering the next time you call me.”

He’s not really in the mood to trade jokes. But it’s how they’ve always communicated best. “Yeah, well, worrying is kinda my default state. Especially when it comes to tiny blondes.”

“Goodbye Logan. And thanks.”

“For what?”

“For coming to find me. For helping me after the way things went last time. For being there when I need you.”

It’s his voice that chokes up this time. “Always.” Then the line goes silent,

The rest of the way to Mac’s passes in a blur. He barely sees it. Then there’s Mac’s door. Tunnel vision. That's what they call it. That’s what he has. 

Mac answers the door when he pounds on it, face full of annoyance. “What do you want, Logan?”

He thrusts the phone towards her, desperation pouring out of him. “Veronica. Called. In trouble. She needs a trace.”

Mac’s annoyance fades, and concern starts to filter in, but she, like Veronica has a ‘clinical mode’. “What’d she say?”

“She has to be on the line for you to trace. She’s afraid of running out of battery though, so she’s not on right now.” Obviously. That was a stupid thing to add.

Mac gestures for him to follow her. He does, probably too closely. He’s relying on Mac now. Mac can save her.

Mac sits down at a desk with three monitors and a large beefy computer perched on the side, fans whirring and making loud noises. Her fingers tap rapidly on the keyboard and he can’t follow anything that she’s doing. 

Eventually she waves a hand at him. “Call her back. I can get her, we only need a minute or so for the trace.” 

He does, hitting redial so fast, he thinks his fingers blur. 

“Is Mac there?” Her voice, still filled with more terror than he’d like, is starting to get a bit of hope creeping in.

“Yeah, V. I’m here. Give me a second.”

Her exhale of relief is audible. “If I’m right, I have a few more hours of air left. Hopefully enough time for you to come get me.”

“Wait, hours? What’s going on?” Mac’s voice is getting panicked now.

“You didn’t tell her?” There’s that anger that he hears so often.

“Kinda on a deadline, Veronica.” He’s trying to keep his voice even. He’s frustrated, even though he understands where she’s coming from. This time. “Thought I’d save the explanations until we knew where you were. I’ll tell her on the way to get you.”

Both girls relax marginally, Mac’s visually, only a bit of the tension waning, and Veronica’s a sigh of understanding, soft but clear. The tip-tap of Mac’s keyboard slows and she’s concentrating now, any previous alarm tempered until later. 

“Got it. She’s only a few hours north.”

“Veronica?” His relief is heard in his voice. “I’m going to call someone to get you out. We’re coming up. I’ll see you in a few hours.”

“I’ll be here.”

**Author's Note:**

> So this was another. Can't sleep, must word vomit on the page, kind of story. 
> 
> This was deliberately choppy, not only because it's about to be 4 am, but for the sense of urgency I was trying to convey. I also posted it raw and unbeta'd for the same reason. I hope it worked.


End file.
